They were spirits. And they were her parents.
The two facts collided in Aiko's mind with the force of planets crashing. Time, which had no meaning here, seemed to stop entirely. The brutal training, the cosmic war, the weight of her own cursed power—it all dissolved into nothing.
There was only them.
Her father, Kenji, with his kind, scholarly eyes that she had only ever seen in a single, faded photograph. Her mother, Hana, with a fierce, loving gaze that she remembered like a phantom limb, a warmth she had been chasing her entire life.
They were translucent, shimmering with a soft, peaceful light. And their faces, as they looked at her through the impossible doorway she had created, were filled with a love so profound, so absolute, it was a physical force.
My brave girl, her mother's voice whispered in her mind. It was the exact sound from her dreams, the voice that had soothed her nightmares for thirteen years. You've grown so strong.
But you're not ready for what's coming, her father added, his thought laced with a deep, urgent warning.
Aiko took a step. And another.
"Aiko, no!" Zara's voice was a sharp, distant crack of thunder from behind her. "Don't go in there! It's not stable!"
"Child, wait!" Izanami's command was filled with a new, raw urgency.
But she didn't hear them. Not really. They were voices from another world. A world of pain and duty and fighting. This world, the one on the other side of the silver doorway, was home.
She reached the portal. The air shimmered, smelling of cherry blossoms and summer rain, the scent of her childhood garden. She reached out a trembling hand and pushed it through the veil.
It felt like stepping into a warm bath. A release. A homecoming.
She stepped through, leaving the cold, dusty church behind. The world on the other side solidified around her. She stood in the sun-dappled glade of her old home. The grass was soft beneath her boots. The air was warm. It was a memory, perfectly preserved. A paradise built from nostalgia.
Her parents stood before her. They were still translucent, still spirits. But here, on their side, they felt more real. More solid.
"Mom?" Aiko whispered, the word a fragile, childish thing she hadn't spoken in thirteen years. "Dad?"
Her mother, Hana, raised a hand made of starlight, her fingers brushing against Aiko's cheek. The touch had no substance, but Aiko felt it in her soul. A jolt of pure, unconditional love.
We're here, my love, Hana's thought-voice caressed her. We're so sorry. We never wanted to leave you.
Tears streamed down Aiko's face, hot and silent. The hollow space in her chest, the one she had carried for her entire life, was suddenly, impossibly full. "I thought… I thought you were gone," she choked out.
We are, her father, Kenji, said. His voice was gentle, but underscored with a scholar's sadness. And yet, we remain. It is… a complication of our nature.
He looked at the portal behind Aiko, a shimmering, silver tear in the fabric of his peaceful world. He saw Zara and Izanami on the other side, their faces masks of horror and desperation.
You should not have come here, Aiko, Kenji said, his tone gentle but firm. This place is not for the living. Your presence here is a disruption. It is dangerous.
"I don't care," Aiko said, a fierce, desperate sob tearing from her throat. "I don't care. I'm not leaving you again."
She took a step to embrace them, to feel that warmth, that love, that sense of belonging she had been starved for. But her arms passed right through their shimmering forms. They were here, but they were not. Ghosts. Echoes.
The pain of it was a fresh wound.
Oh, my sweet girl, Hana said, her form flickering with sorrow. If only we could hold you. Just once.
"Then I'll stay," Aiko declared, her voice raw with a sudden, fierce decision. "I'll stay here with you. I don't care about the balance. I don't care about being a Guardian. I just want… I just want my family."
It was the cry of the seven-year-old girl she had never stopped being. The girl who would trade the fate of the universe for one more day with her parents.
That is the one thing you cannot do, Kenji said, his expression turning grim. Your desire to stay is the very reason we are trapped here.
Aiko froze. "What?"
This world, this memory, Hana explained, gesturing to the sun-dappled garden around them. It is not the true spirit realm. It is not the path to peace.It is a prison. A beautiful, sunlit cage we built for ourselves.
"A cage?" Aiko repeated, confused. "But… you seem at peace."
We are not at peace, Kenji stated, the sadness in his eyes deepening. We are tethered. Anchored. His spectral gaze met hers, and she felt the terrible weight of his next words. We are anchored to you, Aiko.
The world seemed to tilt. "To me?"
When you were attacked, when your power erupted to save yourself, you did not just push the hunter back, Hana explained, her voice aching with a mother's pain. You held on. You held on to us with all your desperate, childish strength.
Your grief, your loneliness, your immense, untamed power… it created an anchor. A hook. It stopped us from completing our journey.We could not move on, because a part of our souls was still tied to the living world. To you.
The twist landed, not as a shock, but as a slow, dawning horror. Her greatest comfort, the feeling that they were still with her, had been their prison sentence. Her love was their cage.
"So… you're trapped here?" Aiko whispered, her heart breaking all over again, but for a new, more terrible reason. "Because of me?"
We are not in pain, Kenji assured her, though his form flickered with sorrow. We have each other. And we have been able to watch you. To feel your life. It has been a bittersweet gift.But we are… stuck. Unable to find the final peace that all souls seek.
The portal behind her began to pulse erratically. The silver light flickered, the edges of the doorway wavering.
"Aiko, you have to come back!" Zara's voice shouted, thin and distorted. "It's collapsing!"
She is right, daughter, Kenji said, his voice becoming urgent. You cannot stay here. Your living essence is destabilizing this memory-realm. If you remain, you could be trapped here with us when it collapses. Or worse, it could unravel completely, destroying us all.
"But how do I free you?" Aiko cried, her mind racing. "If I'm the anchor, then I have to… what? Die? Is that the only way?"
No! Hana's voice was a sharp, fierce command. Never think that. Your life is precious. It is the one thing we died to protect.
There is another way, Kenji said. You must sever the anchor. You must learn to control your power, to find the tethers of your own grief, and cut them.You must let us go, Aiko. Truly let us go.
It was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of her. To save them, she had to lose them all over again. Willingly, this time.
The portal shrank, the silver light turning a dangerous, flickering red. The beautiful garden around them began to fray at the edges, the colors bleeding into a gray static.
"Aiko, now!" Zara screamed.
Go, child, Hana urged, her form becoming more translucent. Live. Grow strong. Become the Guardian your father knew you would be.
Aiko looked at them, her heart torn between two impossible choices. Stay and be destroyed with them, or leave and face the agony of letting them go.
Her father met her eyes, his expression filled with a desperate, final urgency. Aiko, listen to me, he projected, his thought sharp and clear, cutting through the chaos. There is no time. You must know.
The enemy, the Architect of the Void… its influence is not just in the world. It has reached into Heaven itself.We have seen it from this side. We have seen the shadows in the light.
The Council is compromised. Their order is a lie.
Trust no one from Heaven.They are not what they seem.
The warning slammed into her, a final, terrifying piece of the puzzle. The portal behind her was now no bigger than a dinner plate.
We love you, my brave girl, her mother's voice whispered, a final, loving caress. Now go. Live.
With a final, heartbroken sob, Aiko turned and threw herself at the collapsing doorway. She dove through the shimmering, red pinprick of light just as it snapped shut behind her with the sound of a breaking heart.
She landed in a heap on the cold stone floor of the church, back in the world of dust and duty. The space where the portal had been was just a wall. The garden was gone. Her parents were gone.
She was alone again. But this time, she was not just a grieving child.
She was a Guardian with a mission. A daughter with a promise to keep. And a warrior with a war to win.